Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Proof that I'm in love...
Last night, when I was getting ready for bed at Rob’s place, the bathroom sink failed to drain. I tried a couple of things (jiggling the plug, tapping the plug, trying to compress the water down with my hand... etc.), and none of them worked. So I had to go and get Rob out of bed, ask him what he wanted me to do. He said he'd look at it, but I offered to try and plunge it out. That failed miserably when I heard water spilling into the cabinet below the sink, so we abandoned that. By then, Rob was up and trying to figure it out. Then, he figured he'd just take out the little arm underneath the sink, so he set to unscrewing that, and further water spillage ensured (of course). Towels and a bowl to collect the water were obtained and set beneath the elbow pipe. Then, he managed to get it off, and yuck - the smell! Eeew! Putrid, rotting yuck!
So because he had been handling the elbow pipe, and the black, greasy rotting material that was stuck in the pipe had gotten on his hands, his natural reaction was to wash them. In the sink. From which he had just removed the elbow pipe. Water everywhere! I suppose I wasn't much in the way of help because I was just standing there laughing and commenting on how gross it was, offering useful statements like “maybe you shouldn’t use the sink!!” after he had turned the water on... He cleaned out the elbow pipe in the kitchen sink, and reinstalled it. Then, we tested it and it totally failed. The clog was further down the pipe. So he took the elbow pipe back off, and again, washed his hands in the unsecured sink. AGAIN! Much to my entertainment. The clog wasn't where we could get at it, so I suggested he get a coat-hanger and stab through it so that when we applied the Drano later on, it would have a chance to get to the clog. So he did just that, stabbing away at the clog in the pipe with a coat-hanger, bringing out little globs of awful black stuff. Only, see, the coat-hanger got stuck on something after he had jammed it in there a few good tries. Then, he started pulling on it, harder and harder. I stood there, kind of watching in concerned horror. I said to him, I sez "Do you think... I mean... maybe... you... shouldn't be... y'know, yanking on it... that... hard..." and SCCLOOOONK! Rob's hands flew back in the air, and I involuntarily flinched and closed my eyes, and when I opened them, pure hilarity. The coat-hanger had come out alright, and had brought with it a giant clump of whatever had been clogging the sink. And most of it had ended up all over Rob. Smaller black greasy clumps were all over his body, and because he had just gotten out of bed, he was only wearing shorts, so those were covered too.
Eeeeew!! Hee! But super-ew! Funny as all hell, and I could not stop laughing. I'm sure I wasn't much help at all. He just sat there, too, covered in the glop, looking alternately amused and disgusted. We decontaminated him in the shower, and I worked to clean up the floor and globs of goop everywhere... It was a good time.
I suppose this just goes to indicate how domesticated I’ve become. Unclogging a sink amounts to a good time. I did remark afterwards (after I managed to calm down, stop laughing, and breathe) that a clogged sink at my parents’ place would have constituted a calamity. The whole house would have been shut down. Assessments, investigations, and inquisitions would have begun. Cries of “What did you put in the sink?!!” would have echoed throughout the place. Recriminations would have ensued, my father would have said “I’ll take care of it later…” and my mother, in a couple of days, would be so fed up she’d call a plumber, who would invariably charge her a small fortune to snake it out or pour liquid plumber down the drain. Then, my father would find out she’d hired someone, and would have his nose out of joint, and a stony silence would descend upon the dwelling.
At Rob’s house? Pure entertainment, baby. Sniggering, giggling, then outright hands-down laughter until the tears rolled down my face. Because seriously? Seeing him sitting there on the floor, all covered in goop? All I could think was that he was so cool.
So because he had been handling the elbow pipe, and the black, greasy rotting material that was stuck in the pipe had gotten on his hands, his natural reaction was to wash them. In the sink. From which he had just removed the elbow pipe. Water everywhere! I suppose I wasn't much in the way of help because I was just standing there laughing and commenting on how gross it was, offering useful statements like “maybe you shouldn’t use the sink!!” after he had turned the water on... He cleaned out the elbow pipe in the kitchen sink, and reinstalled it. Then, we tested it and it totally failed. The clog was further down the pipe. So he took the elbow pipe back off, and again, washed his hands in the unsecured sink. AGAIN! Much to my entertainment. The clog wasn't where we could get at it, so I suggested he get a coat-hanger and stab through it so that when we applied the Drano later on, it would have a chance to get to the clog. So he did just that, stabbing away at the clog in the pipe with a coat-hanger, bringing out little globs of awful black stuff. Only, see, the coat-hanger got stuck on something after he had jammed it in there a few good tries. Then, he started pulling on it, harder and harder. I stood there, kind of watching in concerned horror. I said to him, I sez "Do you think... I mean... maybe... you... shouldn't be... y'know, yanking on it... that... hard..." and SCCLOOOONK! Rob's hands flew back in the air, and I involuntarily flinched and closed my eyes, and when I opened them, pure hilarity. The coat-hanger had come out alright, and had brought with it a giant clump of whatever had been clogging the sink. And most of it had ended up all over Rob. Smaller black greasy clumps were all over his body, and because he had just gotten out of bed, he was only wearing shorts, so those were covered too.
Eeeeew!! Hee! But super-ew! Funny as all hell, and I could not stop laughing. I'm sure I wasn't much help at all. He just sat there, too, covered in the glop, looking alternately amused and disgusted. We decontaminated him in the shower, and I worked to clean up the floor and globs of goop everywhere... It was a good time.
I suppose this just goes to indicate how domesticated I’ve become. Unclogging a sink amounts to a good time. I did remark afterwards (after I managed to calm down, stop laughing, and breathe) that a clogged sink at my parents’ place would have constituted a calamity. The whole house would have been shut down. Assessments, investigations, and inquisitions would have begun. Cries of “What did you put in the sink?!!” would have echoed throughout the place. Recriminations would have ensued, my father would have said “I’ll take care of it later…” and my mother, in a couple of days, would be so fed up she’d call a plumber, who would invariably charge her a small fortune to snake it out or pour liquid plumber down the drain. Then, my father would find out she’d hired someone, and would have his nose out of joint, and a stony silence would descend upon the dwelling.
At Rob’s house? Pure entertainment, baby. Sniggering, giggling, then outright hands-down laughter until the tears rolled down my face. Because seriously? Seeing him sitting there on the floor, all covered in goop? All I could think was that he was so cool.
